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⁠—⁠—⁠— I ⁠—⁠—⁠—

Above their heads, the soft blue canopy of the sky arched in every direction.

Beneath their feet, the burnt remains of the undergrowth smoldered, still warm in places from the blaze that had only burned itself out in the early morning. The morning air of the Marches tickled and filled their nostrils with the harsh smell of the woods, made fresh and pungent by the night’s purifying fire and rain.

The twins, silently holding each other’s hands, could tell at a glance that the thirty or so mounted warriors were Gohran. Everything they wore—their helms, armor, cloaks— was black. Even the barding on their horses was a dull black that matched the ash beneath their hooves and the skeletal husks of the trees through which they weaved their approach. The black helms were turned toward the twins, and the leading knights bore crossbows ready to send lethal shots of lead with deadly accuracy right at the children’s throats. Hiding or fleeing were no longer options, so the twins simply stood there, saying nothing, captured.

Their distress at being discovered, however, was nothing compared to the bewilderment of the knights at seeing the twins and their strange companion standing there. Remus and Rinda were like two pearls, wood spirits, with eyes the color of the sky at dusk after the last rays of the setting sun have faded, and platinum blond hair that shone all the more now that it had dried from the dousing it received during the dreadful events of the night before. Next to them, the warrior Guin looked like a great half-beast god with his arms crossed over his powerful chest. Had he been one of the hideous primitives of Nospherus he would not have stood out any more. Looking at him, even the twins, who had grown quite close to the leopardman after the night’s adventure, and were even starting to feel a strange kind of sympathy for him, couldn’t help but think that this great, fantastic creature was the product of some demon’s imagination.

In the morning light, he had all the presence of a king. Gone was the dried blood and spring-muck that had covered his battle-scarred skin when the twins first found him; and the armor, leggings, gauntlets, broadsword, and cloak he had picked up from the fallen soldiers from the keep gave him the air of an ancient soldier of legend-much more than he had the day before, when he lay by the forest pool like a piece of human driftwood, clothed only in a crude loincloth. Rather than obscuring his form, the armor accentuated his rippling muscles, perfectly complementing a body that seemed nonetheless agile for all its massiveness. The tawny features of his leopard head stood out like a golden sun against the blackness of the ash that lay in lumps and piles around them, and his eyes shone with the ferocity of a beast.

The knights crossed through the remains of fallen trees, stopping in formation to cut off the path on which the three companions were walking. All the while they stared in bewildered fascination at the bizarre sight before them. Still, the well-trained Gohran soldiers were renowned for their strength—one of their knights was worth a hundred ordinary men in battle—and they had seen many strange things during their patrols of the Marches; and so, uneasy though they were, they kept a firm grip on their reins, their crossbows trained on their mark. Thirty strong and confident in their strength, they prepared for battle, but made no move to attack, awaiting the commands of their captain, who rode in front with the long black plume of his rank flowing from atop his helm.

The captain seemed the most intrigued of them all, and he stared at the three for a long while before shrugging as though shedding off a dream. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Well, well! This is a surprise. I left the keep as the sun rose this morning with orders to find the cause of the great fire in the forest and the whereabouts of our two missing squads… and to find and capture the young prince and princess of Parros, who were doubtless responsible for much of these strange events. While the cause of the fire has evaded us, we did find the bones and burnt corpses of our comrades toward the heart of the wood, and now, the Pearls of Parros. But this…” He paused, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he looked at Guin. “Never did I expect to find here, in the ruins of the Roodwood, a monster spawned from Cirenos himself. What—what the hell is that?”

The captain raised his ornately decorated whip and pointed at Guin, making a strange gesture—a Gohran charm forwarding off demons.

Guin glared at the knights, his eyes flaring a fierce yellow. “Children,” he said in a deep gravelly growl, indistinguishable from an animal’s snarl to the unaccustomed ears of the Gohran men. “They have come for their friends as we knew they would. When I count to three, leap to the side. Speed is your only ally against those crossbows. I’ll take the captain for my shield.”

“Guin—no! Stop!” Rinda cried out, holding back Guin’s arm with both hands. “There are thirty crossbows aimed at us,ready to fire at any moment! We can’t fight against this many!”

“Did that beast say something?” asked the captain, his thickly accented voice filled with suspicion.

Before Guin could act, Rinda shot a glance at her twin brother, then stepped boldly forward. “Dogs of Gohra! The twins of Parros neither run nor hide. Take your pearls back to your lord at Stafolos and boast of your victory! But this man here—this warrior is merely a passer-by. He had no part in this. I ask you to take us two and us alone!”

The captain slapped his saddle and raised his faceplate to stare at her with narrowed eyes. Although Rinda was tall for her age, from atop a horse she looked quite small and insignificant; yet, her slender body was filled with bitter pride—a fierce, powerful pride that only one of high noble birth could hope to muster. So forceful was her manner that perhaps the captain actually gave her words some consideration. But then he slapped the knob of his saddle once more and with a dark, crafty smile on his lips, turned his gaze back to Guin.

“We Mongauli have lain waste to your land, young princess of Parros.” His eyes narrowed further still, his voice dropping lower in a harsh provincial drawl.“1 have captured you, and the Crown Prince, and for that I shall surely receive the Black Lion. But should I bring back this man—no, this beast—my lord will be all the more pleased. Surprising that I’ve not once heard even a rumor of a warrior like him—just look at those muscles! That horrendous face! If he’s half as strong as he looks, he’ll be a pretty prize, and if he turns out to be some trick of the demon Doal, then my lord will know best how to dispose of him. What interests me most, however, is the garb of the Stafolos Keep patrol he wears, and how he got it… Hear me now! It is my duty to bring the three of you back to Stafolos Keep, unharmed. Throw down your swords and ride on our horses, or be tied to the saddle and dragged along behind—the choice is yours.”

“You would tie the twins of Parros behind your horses like the lowest of slaves?” shouted Rinda in sudden fury. Remus nervously laid his hand on her arm, but just then, the leopardman Guin stepped forward, placing his hands on the twins’ shoulders.

“Very well.” Guin spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing each word so that the knights would understand him.“We will throw down our swords. We will go to your keep. Only, give these children the respect that is due to them.” Then, with a strangely noble manner, Guin removed the sword from his belt, scabbard and all, and threw it down into the ashes.

At a sharp order from the captain, several of the knights dismounted and approached the three. All of them were noticeably nervous, and not a few had their fingers crossed in a Gohran charm for warding off evil. As quickly as they could, they snatched the weapons off the ground, then made their captives mount, tying firm leather bands to their wrists which they then fixed to the saddles. Rinda and Remus rode one horse together; Guin was placed on a horse of his own. Two powerfully built warriors rode close on either side of Guin’s horse, the three steeds bound together by a sturdy leather cord wound through their saddles.

“Guin.” The soldiers had finished securing their prisoners, and had turned the horses around to begin the journey out of the ash back toward the keep. Separated though they were, the twins were still close enough to Guin for Rinda to hiss to him in a loud whisper: “You wouldn’t be in this fix at all if it wasn’t for us. I—we owe you an apology.”

“No apologies.” Guin’s stoic voice matched the fixed features of the leopard mask. “It doesn’t matter. It was I who killed their brethren. I am their enemy, whether I am with you or not. More importantly—” he shot a glance at the two warriors riding silently on both sides of him, “I want you to teach me something. I might have known, once, but all my knowledge has left me. What is this Gohra? What kind of land is it? Where does it lie, is it big, is it vulnerable? Why did their land attack and conquer yours?”

“Gohra is a formidable realm that rules the eastern half of the great and civilized Middle Country,” Rinda replied in a low voice. “On the Marches where it was, Gohra used to have to painstakingly carve every new bit of land out of the wilderness. And as the only one of the Three Kingdoms to border on the Marches, it endured the constant assaults of fiends and barbarians from the outer lands, and its armies became famous for their strength and boldness. Gohra is actually more an alliance than a kingdom. It’s made up of three archduchies—the Archduke Olu Ghan’s realm, Yulania; the Archduke Tario’s realm, Kumn; and the Archduke Vlad’s domain, Mongaul, where we are now. They always used to bicker and fight among themselves; but of late they have arranged a truce of sorts to run their kingdom as a whole, knowing that, if they did not, they would all lose. They even have a common ruler, Emperor Sohl. He’s the last remaining descendant of an old Gohran royal bloodline or some such; but even a child of three knows he’s just a figurehead puppet that jumps when the archdukes so much as lift their fingers. Parros was a peaceful land, the richest and most beautiful realm in the Middle Country, wealthy from trade, with a long civilized history and a glorious culture second to none—the pearl of the Middle Country, the flower of the Middle Country… It was one of the Three Kingdoms, along with the new, rough lands of Gohra, and the mysterious Cheironia to the north. The roads of Parros connected every city—they even civilized part of the Marches—and in the height of the Third Dynasty, workers from Parros built the Henna Highroad to protect travelers…”

Remus pitched in halfway through Rinda’s history lesson. “Gohra stopped opening new land in the Marches a long time ago and started to plan their invasion of the richer lands of the Middle Country. Minister Lunan told us that the three archdukes argued about this for a long time, but in the end it was Vlad of Mongaul that gathered his troops and marched on Parros. All the Mongauli soldiers were hardened veterans, straight from the Marches patrol. Against them, Parros…”

Rinda interrupted, her voice quavering. “We were so used to peace, we never saw the attack coming! The Mongauli forces took down one fort after another along the Parros highroads, but their main host was sent up around the Parros-Cheironia border to attack our capital city from behind, killing the royal family as they lay in their beds…”

“Except for us two… right, Rinda?”

“Except for us. I still don’t understand it. Cheironia and Parros were always friends. We signed treaties, and peace between our two countries prevailed for centuries. That’s why Parros’s northern border was so poorly defended. No matter how skilled in strategy the Mongauli archduke is, it’s unthinkable that he could have attacked us from the north without Cheironia’s cooperation, or at least some sort of tacit agreement. There’s no other way! The Emperor of Cheironia sold his soul to those Mongauli devils.”

“And so the city fell.” Guin looked at them curiously. “But then how did you two come to be here, in the Marches?”

Remus made to answer but his sister cut him off with a “Shh!” Then with an odd expression on her face she looked at the black knights riding in tight formation around them and barely more than mumbled, “Stranger things have happened to the royal blood of Parros.”

As they talked, the riding party had left the Roodwood. Now they came to a place where the tree branches opened and Stafolos Keep was revealed above them.

They were in the midst of a deep sea of trees, with only an occasional island of meadow or hillock. The rushing sound of a river had been growing louder as they made their way slowly upward, and now they could see it snaking away behind the rise where the keep sat. Beyond the forest, mountains rose in the distance, a black range of peaks under the hazy indigo sky forming a line of dim, sinister shapes on the horizon.

They were in the highlands of the Marches now, with a good view of the surrounding land. Beyond the river there was no more forest or undergrowth, just endless rocky plains— wildlands where the barbarous tribes of the Sem made their homes. It was true that the forest hid many dangers, but in the wildlands danger was everywhere, and there was no place to hide.

Rinda shivered slightly atop her horse, remembering stories she had heard during more peaceful times in the Crystal Palace of Parros—stories of the fearful wildland tribes. But to escape this place, they would have to cross the great black waters of the Kes River, and enter that rocky, barren wilderness. If she had to choose, she would take even the Roodwood and the cruel Gohrans over the Kes and the Nospherus wildlands. Rinda sighed. Places where one could live in peace were so few these days. She made a quick sign to ward off evil, and looked up at the towering structure above her.

It was a massive fortress of hewn stone—a true Marches stronghold. Cut into the grey blocks that formed the outer wall were innumerable crossbow slits, like eyes ever watchful for wildling raids. Several towers rose inside the walls, creating a complex but beautiful symmetry. Two flags flew from each: the Black Lion of Gohra and the flag of the Mongauli archduke.

The keep stood at the end of a long, winding road that rose slowly out of the dark forest. The hillside had been cleared behind the keep so that watchers on the walls could see all the way down to the bottom of the valley where the swift waters of the Kes flowed. Towering over the forest trees, with the deepening purple of the mountain range in the distance, the keep seemed infused with a kind of Marches gloom, wrapped in an enduring silent chill.

As they drew nearer to the keep and the gates loomed ever higher, a dread quiet fell over the black knights and their prisoners. Barely daring to breathe, they guided their horses onward in a slow and silent walk. A black snake cut across the rocky path ahead of them; a strange black bird flew up from the forest with a cry that sounded unsettlingly like a human scream… but no one seemed to notice. A short way up ahead the stone walls of the keep towered—the end of the road, and the end of the twins’ hope for escape.

‘“Hail, gatekeeper! Open the gates!” the captain’s voice echoed in the silence below the walls.

A watcher peered from one of the embrasures; then, with a great grinding noise, the tall gate slowly began to open. The black horses and their knights were just passing through the archway when—

“No! I will not pass through this gate!” Rinda’s cry rang out loud and harsh.

Startled, Remus grabbed her shoulder from behind to quiet her, but she shook him off. Her deep, violet eyes, wide with fear, were fixed on the towering fortress above them.

“Silence! What’s the meaning of this?” the captain barked, guiding his horse back down the line at a fast trot. Rinda was shaking her head, still staring at the keep.

“A plague rides on the air here. The smell of rot! This is Doal’s realm. Can’t you feel it? The keep is doomed, don’t you see? No, I will not pass through this gate. There is a disease in there I will not touch.”

A shiver ran visibly through the soldiers. There was fear in the superstitious hearts of the Marches patrol. They remembered the recent demise of their fellows and the terrible fire in the Roodwood, and even the boldest among them felt that the leopard-headed creature they had found was no good omen. They knew that the royal family of Parros was first among the priests of Janos, that their bloodline had given rise to some of the greatest prophets and holy men in history. And they knew that it had been their brothers who had put the royal family to the blade.

Now a whisper rose up among the men as they paused between the large outer wall gate and the entrance to the inner keep. “’Tis the curse of the royal house!” A few of the soldiers made the sign of Janos over their breastplates.

“Ehyah! What’s this talk?” the captain spat and rode forward along the line again, whipping the rump of each horse he passed by with his lash. “Keep moving! Is this not the same Stafolos Keep we left at daybreak this morning? We may be near the perils of the Marches out here, but inside is Mongauli territory and safety! Nothing fiendish can pass through these walls! If anything unpleasant happens, it will be because we tarried in delivering these cursed twins of Parros. Now, ride! Our lord is waiting.”

The knights exchanged glances, then slowly urged their horses forward.

Guin looked at his small companion with some curiosity, but Rinda had fallen into a determined silence. She clutched Remus’ hand, and burying her chin in the leather collar of her jerkin, she rode silently forward among the dark knights. Only, her alert eyes looked out from behind the silver hair half-covering her face, and it seemed they shone with a strange violet light. But soon they too were hidden as her dark eyelashes lowered.

Thus the company entered Stafolos Keep.